I'm Better Than Falling
by Joy Kathlyn
Summary: Wynonna Spencer has never played Quidditch outside of a pickup game in her town. She really wants to make the Montrose Magpies, but will need to face her fears to do it.


Written for the International Wizarding School Championship

School: Ilvermorny

Year: 1

Theme: Scoring

Main Prompt: Flying [Action]

Additional Prompt(s): Vertigo [Word], Falling [Action]

Word Count: 2,081

I own nothing you recognize.

* * *

Wynonna Spencer gazed out over the Quidditch pitch from her perch in the stands. A huge crowd had gathered to watch tryouts today, and there was a large range of players out to compete. She had been invited to tryout by one of the coaches several weeks previous.

What was she doing here, she thought to herself as she surveyed the competition. A small town girl without any experience. She hadn't even played on her house team, for Merlin's sake! With a sigh, Wyn slid onto her broom and flew down to the mass of players gathered around the small band of coaches and the few players who held their spots on the team. Maxine Atkins, the single remaining Chaser. Shanna Rowland and Kay Abney, one of the best Beater pairs in the league. Peter Bellamy, Seeker. These were some of the best players in the country, the world even, and today she'd be playing with them.

The Montrose Magpies needed two Chasers and a Keeper because most of the team had been snatched up for England's World Cup lineup, opening several positions. Because of how late it was in the season, the Magpies had decided to hold open tryouts, rather than depending on Hogwarts graduates to fill positions.

Stumbling into the haphazard line of players Wyn sized up the wizards on either side of her. One was massive, with pillows tied around his torso as padding. The other was a freckled teen, not even out of school, decked out in his Ravenclaw-crested leather armor.

"Keepers on the left, Chasers on the right, and if you're here to challenge for Beater or Seeker, go talk to Hayes over there." The coach gestured to a man standing on the sidelines decked out in the traditional black and white Magpie uniform.

She scurried over to the left side of the man and squeezed herself into the new line. A few of the coaches began to take names. One of them, a slim man with dyed blue hair stopped in front of her. "Name, age, occupation, and previous experience please." he asked.

"Wynonna Spencer, 23. I work in my family's potion shop, and I've play pickup games with others in my town." She had forgotten that they would ask her if she had played with a team before. They were sure to ask her to leave now.

Instead, the man nodded, and wrote down what she had said. "Thanks, your number is 37," he sighed, "At least you've played before."

Wyn raised her eyebrows. She wasn't the most inexperienced player here? "Some haven't?" She asked.

He nodded seriously, his blue hair flopping over his face. "I don't know why they bothered coming, this isn't Hogwarts flying lessons. Anyways, good luck." he said as he moved on.

She blinked wordlessly, lost in thought. If some of the people here hadn't played before, maybe she had a chance! She was the best Keeper in her town after all.

* * *

Wyn was herded over to the left end goalposts with some of the other hopefuls. As she looked up at them, her heart fell. Had they always been that tall? Her pickup team played barely twenty feet off the ground, using hoops attached to the roof of the pub as goals. She had never played that high before.

"Group 2 is numbers 14, 29 and 37. Please fly up to the goal and defend one of them." Her heart in her throat, Wyn climbed onto her broom and kicked off. The feeling of freedom that accompanied flying rose in her and her nervousness faded away as she tried hard not to look down.

Settling in at the middle hoop, she realized how much higher she was than the other two Keepers. She caught sight of the ground.

Her head began spinning as the ground appeared to draw closer. The feeling of vertigo left her shaky on her broom and far away from what was happening on the pitch. In the distance she heard a shout of, "GO!" as the ringing in her ears grew stronger. It took all Wyn had in her to draw her eyes from the green grass of the field below to look up at the approaching Chasers.

_Thwack!_ The Quaffle smacked into the tail of her broom, sending her spinning and the red ball flying back to where it came from, nearly hitting the Chaser who had thrown it in the nose. The shock of spinning hit her and jerked her out of her stupor. Wyn brought her broom to a stop. Ignoring the shocked stares of the crowd, she braced herself for the next ball.

The broom won't stop working unless you do something. Confidence is key to flying, she reminded herself, the phrase running through her head in the voice of Madam Hooch herself. Her shaking evened out. Flying this high is no different from flying at home, she thought, I can do this.

Taking a deep breath as the Chasers got ready for another charge, the young woman took stock of the situation. None of these Chasers looked particularly dangerous. Still, she turned so her side faced the players.

The Quaffle flew straight through the left hoop, and the man guarding it flew back down at the coaches bidding. Another flew up to take his place. As she hovered there, Wyn readjusted her flying goggles.

The Quaffle was kicked towards her, below her actually, so she flipped her broom over so she hung upside-down. From her new position, she caught the leather sphere without any problem and flipped back up.

She played for several more rounds, continuing to flip her broomstick around. The more she used the tricks she knew, the more comfortable she was with being up high.

As she caught Quaffle number 14, she heard, "Thank you, 37," a man called, "Please fly over to the benches to receive your next directions." Wyn tossed the ball back to the other competitors and sailed over to the place she had been directed.

The benches had very few people on them, a few other Keepers and a couple Chasers. This had been where the Beaters and Seekers had been sent to but they had all gone. The wooden seats were just out of sight of the spectators, and Wyn could no longer hear the shouts of the coaches and players. The one they had called Hayes was here, as well as the blue-haired man.

She twisted her hair in a nervous manner when their eyes landed on her. "You did really well!" exclaimed the blue-haired one as she moved to sit down.

Hayes nodded. "It's been a long time since I saw skill like that. Have you ever played professionally?" Wyn shook her head. "Their loss, our gain then," he smiled, "You'll make it for sure."

She tried to sweep her honey colored hair over her face to hide her blush, forgetting it was tightly tied back. She ended up just pulling on it instead.

"Anyways, we're just waiting here until the general tryouts are done, so we can get you all out there individually. Make yourself comfortable, it might be a while." She nodded, unable to form words once again, and set her broom down on the floor next to her as she took a seat.

The air was rather stuffy as they watched. Some discussed the happenings in low voices, and others just watched. Every so often another player would come to join them.

* * *

It had grown dark by the time the general tryouts finished. Someone had turned on the big stadium lights, bought from a nearby Muggle playing field. Most of the crown had gone home, with only a few intrepid reporters remaining to watch. Wyn could tell it was rather late given that it was the height of summer.

They were shooed out onto the pitch, into the middle of the field. There were barely twenty of them, three or four Keepers, with the rest Chasers. Rowland, Abney and Bellamy had held their positions it seemed.

The Chasers went first, paired off in groups of three, to pass with each other. The coaches shuffled around the groups often, trying to find the perfect combination of players. Maxine Atkins was not exempt from the treatment, but it became clear that the groups with her in them were a step above the rest.

It was about an hour later that the perfect team was found. Atkins, of course, with Francis Honeycutt, a heavyset man who moved like lightning, and Rosemarie Preston, a rather aggressive player who had gracefully mowed down several other players during the day. The three of them worked well together and with practice would become great.

With the choosing of the Chaser lineup, it was time for the Keepers. One by one, they were sent up to the goal posts to be assaulted with Quaffles.

The first to go was good, but slow. She couldn't make it to the rings fast enough to defend them. Instead, she flew around the middle hoop, trying to outsmart the Chasers, but they quickly figured out her flying pattern and she was toast.

The second caught each Quaffle delicately and tossed it back to the players, only for them to turn and score on him before he recovered. It was a little painful to watch and he gave up eventually.

The third was really good. Really, really good. Wyn remembered Moses Kerry from school. He had been the Hufflepuff Keeper for five years, from third year the seventh year. Hufflepuff had never lost a single cup with him on the team. She had always been pleased, after all, one does root for their own house tem, but she had never really assessed how good he actually was.

And he was good. There was no pattern to be seen in his flying, and he caught every shot effortlessly. He was much better than her, a pickup team Keeper who liked doing flying tricks and was afraid of flying more than twenty feet off the ground.

Soon enough, Kerry had finished and it was Wyn's turn.

She flew to the hoops and slowly looked at the ground. I will not fall, she thought, I'm better than falling. As the Chasers grew closer she darted in front of the higher middle hoop. She could see Atkins going for the left hoop out of the corner of her eye. She couldn't get there in time, the angle would be wrong to catch the Quaffle.

Without a thought to how high she was, Wyn made a move she had never made while playing before. She tucked her pant leg over the handle of the broom and fell. She freefell the twenty feet between her and the Quaffle, her broom caught in her outfit, trailing behind her. She caught the red Quaffle as it was about to pass through the hoop. Pulling her leg around her, she flipped her broom back under her, stopping her fall just as she was about to hit the ground.

The broom settled under her, facing the wrong way. Wyn pulled herself around to face forward and flew back up to the middle hoop, once again ignoring the shocked looks aimed at her. Taking advantage of their momentary confusion, she drop kicked the Quaffle past the motionless Chasers to the other side of the pitch.

She lingered in front of the goal, waiting for the team to come to their senses. As they shook themselves, the coaches waved them all down to the field.

Wyn settled in front of the huddle, next to Kerry. "Why didn't you ever try out for the school team?" he asked in a small voice, "You're loads better than me."

She blinked at him. "I'm not that good. There are others out there better than me. You included." He shook his head as the coaches gestured for them to bring it in.

"That was some good flying out there today, I'm very impressed with all of you," the head coach said, "Thanks to all of you for coming out to fly today." He turned to Wyn. "Wynonna Spencer, 37?"

"That's me."

"Congratulations on your new position, give your contact information to Hayes so we can get you our practice times, Keeper."

Wyn's heart shook with happiness. She had actually done it! Professional Quidditch was never her plan, but now she could play everyday! That in itself was a victory, but there would be more to come.


End file.
